Dark Love
by Duck You Autocorrect
Summary: Kurt was alone and scared. He lost everyone; Allie, Taylor, and his baby. He had someone though, Jane. She was everything he needed in his dark time, and he knew he wasn't about to let her go, even if it kills him. Little bit dark, Eventual Jeller though.
1. Chapter 1

Gone.

She was gone.

She was 1,792.4 miles away from him. His unborn child was 1,792.4 miles away from him. She wouldn't know him. She would grow up calling Allie Mommy, and she would grow up with her Daddy 1,792.4 miles away.

Who was he kidding? She wouldn't call him Daddy. She would barely know who he was. He would never be there for her first steps, or for her first word. He wouldn't get to see her off on her first day of school, or take her out for dinner when she got straight A's. He wouldn't get to scare the boys who took her out on dates, hell he probably wouldn't even walk her down the aisle. He would die without a relationship with his only child.

He would be another deadbeat Dad. He would be just like his own Dad. A fucked up alcoholic who was a good for nothing piece of shit.

Weller chugged the rest of his whiskey, before pulling himself other glass. He didn't have a clue of how many he was at now. 6? 7? Hell he didn't give a shit. The rest of the bottle had his name on it anyway, why even bother pouring out if it was all just gonna ended up drowning his dreams while burning his esophagus.

He took the cool glass in his hand, not noticing how unsteady he was. Who had he been trying to kid though? He was Assistant Director at the FBI. He worked 12 hour shifts, and drank most of his night away. He couldn't raise a kid. He couldn't be home to put her to bed, he couldn't even assure her that he would come home.

Shit.

What if he died in the field before she was born? What if he doomed his daughter to never know her father. To grow up with just her mom.

Just like Taylor.

Kurt's breath hitched as he thought of her. She had been so young, and he had been so stupid.

He could have saved her. He could been there somehow or he could have stopped his Dad. He should have done something, anything.

She had just been a kid, just like his baby will be. Someday she will be the exact same age Taylor was when she was killed. His daughter will be that age, unless something bad happened to her too. Anxiety filled his head, and he took another swig of his alcohol. His thoughts mellowed out as they got cloudier, no longer were they deep and dark things. No longer intrusive hateful things. What if she dies? What if she gets abducted and no one can save her? What if Allie dies? What if he turned out like his father and killed Allie? What if he turned out like his father and killed the baby?

Those thoughts blurred together into a big cloud of what if hatred. What if he could just stop it all? He grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and sipped it slowly as he brought it into the nursery. He could burn it all. He could pour his whiskey over that fucking expensive ass crib and that stupid rug and all that stupid baby shit and burn it all into the ground. He could do it with the pour of a bottle and the flick of a lighter. He could roll around in it before hand and take himself with it.

But that would be a waste of some damn good whiskey.

Instead he took another sip, and sank to the floor. His knees cracking as he sat curled up against the wall.

In a perfect world he would be normal. He would have a normal wife, not be the baby daddy who's sleeping with someone from a department in the government no one's ever heard of who's also kinda still interested in the women who was pretending to be his dead best friend. _He_ would have a normal job where he didn't almost die everyday, and his best friends didn't almost die everyday. He would have a child he could raise in his own home, and not 1,792.4 miles away.

He would be happy.

A knock at his door awoke him from his thoughts in his pretend paradise, and he somehow managed to get his drunk ass off the floor. His feet were shaky, and so were his legs as he went to open the door.

He hoped it was Allie, telling him she wasn't moving.

He hoped it was Reade and Zapata, the only two people who new who wouldn't mind getting wasted with him on a Friday night still.

He hoped it was...

"Weller?" Her voice called out as she rapped quickly one the door.

In his mind everything clicked into place.

"Jane." He said, his eyes wandering a little below Jane's gorgeous collar bone, and then up to her striking eyes. "You should definitely come in."

He might have his own pain, and his own demons. But he knew just the way to stop them.

* * *

Jane knew Weller was drunk from the moment she saw him. Not only did he reek of whiskey, and slur his words, he totally checked her tits out. She couldn't say she wasn't a little burnt on by it.

He was strangely _sexual_ tonight. His eyes were all over the place, and his hands were a little too touchy as he handed her her glass, or engaged in conversation by sitting just a little too close.

"Jane," He whispered, his hands grabbing hers. He interlaced their fingers, and she felt a little too happy for her liking. "I was so stupid. I've spent weeks, hell months, trying to figure out what I want. I thought it was Allie, or Nas, or fuck it even Taylor. I wasted all that time."

"Weller, you're so wasted right now." She started, she really should leave. He was a mess.

"I wasted so much time, when really I was just looking for you." He pulled his hands away from hers, and cupped her face with them. Kissing her slowly.

She pulled back. "Weller, this isn't right." She said, even though she did enjoy it, and wouldn't mind going further.

"Jane, I need you. I'm so lost." He couldn't say another word, as Jane gave into every part of her that was telling her to continue kissing him, and to abandon all sanity and parts of her that knew it was wrong.

"Fuck." She murmered, her heart going ninety miles per hour as Weller started peeling of her shirt.

"Hell yeah." He said in agreement, it was going to be a wild night.

* * *

 **Just a warning, this is going to get kind of dark. And by kind of I mean very. Comment where you think this is going. I know how this is going to go down, but I want to make sure it isn't too predictable. Haha tell me if you like it, next chapter should be longer, but i didn't know how to do more exposition without revealing the plot already.**


	2. Chapter 2

The moments after were a terrible time for Jane.

First and foremost, she was like a schoolgirl who got noticed by the jock for the first time. Her heart felt like it was beating faster than humanly possibly, and while fucking Kurt Weller was technically exercise, it was a different kind of heart racing. The kind of heart racing she got when she saw him in the mornings; sipping his coffee and looking at peace with the world. It was the same way she felt after sparring with him and he would use the bottom of his tee shirt to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, exposing his incredibly toned stomach.

But beneath all the joy, there was regret. She knew he was wasted. She was definitely not sober. They were both so broken and messed up that there was no good way for this to end. Either things would get too close between them, or they would become terribly separated. Jane didn't know what exactly she wanted, but she knew two things. She wouldn't mind having a relationship with Weller, and she would mind if the two of them ended up awkwardly not talking because they had sex. She also knew that she shouldn't stay.

She might regret the fact that she fucked Kurt Weller, but she would definitely regret staying over at his place.

As she began to pull her clothes back on and make her way out, Kurt came out of the bathroom, his eyes hurt as he realized what she was doing. "You're leaving? Already" He asked, grazing his fingers across her jawline.

"Kurt, we shouldn't..." She trailed off, she needed to be assertive, show him that she wasn't going to take shit from him just because of the fact that they had sex. "Weller, we can't do this. What would the team say?"

"Screw them." He laughed, pulling the dark haired woman close to his chest. "Besides, a real agent with detective skills would have seen this coming by now."

"Do you really want to do this? With me? Or is this about Allie?" She asked, noticing the way his expression changed the moment she said Allie.

"Jane, this has nothing to do with her. This is about you and me." He cried. "Goddammit. I don't care about the team or Allie, or anyone but you right now Jane. I just want us. I want to start all over and be with you, and I know I can't have that, so please, give me tonight."

"Kurt, don't you know I feel the same way. There isn't anyway for us to start over. On Monday, it's going to be you and me, at the office, and then what? We go back to before." She asked, running one of her hands through her hair, the other found itself in Kurt's.

"I don't know. I know that we can make it work though." He smiled. "Just stay for tonight. Please?"

"Damn Weller, the things I do for you." She laughed.

Sharing a bed with your boss is slightly awkward, but Kurt fell asleep soon after they got into bed, an he kept his large arms wrapped around her waist.

Jane felt safe for once. Not worried that tonight would be the night the CIA would come for her and take her away. No concerns came to mind about Sandstorm finding her and killing her softly with as much pain as possible. Just a cloudy brain as she found herself getting sleepier and sleepier.

She felt happy.

* * *

Kurt Weller was a bad, bad boy.

He had always had a problem about taking his work home with him, and as soon as he felt Jane's breathing fall into a deep, slow rhythm; he got to work. He unwrapped himself from around her, pleased to see she was still unconscious. Who knew some melatonin pills mixed with some cold medicine would work so well to knock someone out when taken with whiskey? He grabbed all the stuff he was going to need from the closet next to the bathroom, careful not to wake his sleeping guest. He wouldn't want to come so far just for her to wake up now.

No. That's why this would have to happen tonight.

He grabbed the vials he needed he from the heavy steal case, using caution to not break any of the glass containers. He felt the important one in his hands for a few moments. A few ounces of a liquid was all the difference between his happiness, and a constant state of suffering.

He was done with having to just watch her. To have her be always doing things for the greater good. For Sandstorm, or Roman, or Nas, or the FBI. He didn't want her to do that, he wanted her to do things that made her happy.

She didn't need that life anymore where she was constantly on guard. Ready to fight another a battle and save the world again and again. He didn't want her to have to be that person anymore. The woman who's only identity is working to save the entire world from a terrrorist threat while also saving her brother from himself.

He wanted her to want one thing.

Him.

His name was tattooed on her back, and engrained in her mind, but he wanted more. He wanted to be the one she wakes up to everyday, and the one she kisses every night before she falls asleep. He wanted to be the only man she ever fucked, and he wanted to be the only man who could have her.

She was too guarded for that though. He saw the way she looked at him every day. While he drank his coffee and dreaded another long day of terrors, she was light. She was always watching him with those beautiful eyes. After sparring with her, and watching her face light up with success, he would have to wipe his face down just to keep that stupid grin off his face.

He could never have Jane Doe.

He grabbed the last few items he needed, and got to work. He only had a few hours left before she might wake. He grabbed the needle off of his table and went back to his bedroom.

* * *

Jane awoke in a state of panic. Kurt was gone, the bed was so cold, and she was tied up.

Her hands were each handcuffed to the bed frame behind her. They were much higher up than her torso, and her arm sockets killed like they had been there for hours. Her wrists felt like they were burning, and from the way they felt as they rubbed against the handcuffs, she knew they were very blistered.

Her ankles were bound together with thick rope, rope that led to below the bed, and likely ended in knot around one of the legs. Her ankles didn't hurt as much as her wrists did, but it was almost impossible to move them they were bound so tightly.

She was gagged by something soft, and thick. Something like a towel, or a tee-shirt. Who had done this too her? Someone from Sandstorm, or the CIA? She was more concerned by where Kurt was, what if her attackers had killed him?

It was to much too think about, losing Kurt because someone was after her. She screamed as loud as she could through the gag, hoping for something anything.

The doorknob began to turn, and Jane began to form her game plan. She needed to escape, she needed to find...

Kurt leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on his lips, "Hey, Beautiful."


End file.
